


The winner writes the story

by Just_Mad_Enough



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt Lucifer, I messed with Bible History, I still think it works, I'm Bad At Titles, I'm really glad he doesn't, Lucifer never learns, Sorry Not Sorry, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-18 14:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14215386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Mad_Enough/pseuds/Just_Mad_Enough
Summary: Who gets to tell the story? Who decides who's the antagonist and who's the hero? Why, the winner, of course.And because he hasn't been on the winning side - ever - he's been turned into a snake and a pyromaniac and a slanderer by turns.Or: Five times Lucifer loses and one time he doesn't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Uh. I really don't know how this happened. I just started, no concious thought on a plot, and this is what happened.  
> I hope you'll enjoy it either way though!  
> Also: I'm a big fan of the history of names. Just saying.

*** 1 ***

He hadn’t asked for much, ever. Had always been content in his existence and anyway, his Father had always been a busy man, and more so since he had started on his little side-project. Also, those humans seemed interesting enough, really, so he wouldn’t complain.

He liked watching the two of them, clueless, happy and free as they were. No duties to distract them from enjoying themselves. So in-between his errands, he sometimes came by to watch them. Sometimes he talked to them – more to the woman than the man because, frankly, he seemed a bit boring.

But Chavah was fun. He watched her climb the trees – jump from a far-reaching limb into a lake – and hills, listened to her humming to herself (she couldn’t carry a tune, sounded truly awful, but she had fun while doing it. His siblings, naturally, sounded angelic, but there was never any passion behind it. He somehow preferred her tone-deaf wailing to his sibling’s heartless masterpieces).

Between setting light to the sun to warm the planet created just for the humans, dealing with some familial squabbles for his Father and watching Chavah learn to walk on her hands, he grew resentful. Not of her, or her male counterpart even. _She_ had become his friend and was dear to him, and Adam was important to her, so he would always be safe. But this whole principle of free-will and being allowed to make one’s own decisions? It sounded like something everyone should have, not just two solitary people.

Without ever consciously deciding on it he riled up some of his siblings as well, and then one day they stormed the gates of the Silver City and demanded freedom for themselves.

It went all downhill from there until Michael stood over him, sword firmly gripped in a two-handed grip, sneer fixed on his face. His wings, shining and golden, spread out in a wordless threat while Samael’s where lying spread-out and limp. His back had been broken, and he wouldn’t be able to move anything safe for his head for hours yet.

He hears Michael going on and on and _on_ , while those of his siblings who had followed him are either screaming, begging or silent in their death.

Then he’s chucked out of the gates and over into the abyss. He still can’t move, though – unfortunately – feeling has returned, and while he Falls, he burns.

He can’t remember much after all his skin is gone and his tendons and nerves and other, tender things are exposed to heat and rushing wind.

After he crashed to the ground, leaving a well-sized crater behind, he blacks out for a while.

When he wakes, he’s staring up and sees the creatures, dark and twisted, looking down at him from the edge of the crater. There’s ash falling all around him, because apparently, he had set flame to the atmosphere when he crashed through.

And through all the pain and despair, all he can think is that _this isn’t what I wanted. I just wanted to be free._

*** 2 ***

“It’s… tiny. How is it supposed to take care of itself?”

“ _He_ , Samael. Not _it_. And he doesn’t need to take care of himself yet. That’s what Adam and I are for, you know?”

Chavah just shakes her head at him and deposits the boy in his arms. She has to giggle as his panicked look but takes pity on him and shows him how to hold the infant more comfortably.

“His name is Qayin.”

He still doesn’t understand how she can stand to be in his company, burned, wretched _thing_ that he is now. But on the day he found out that The Gardens haven’t been closed to him, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from entering. Adam had blanched upon seeing him and had fled without looking back, but Chavah had just cocked her head aside and looked closer. Only after recognizing him had she run – only not away, but into his arms.

After she’d let go of him she had flown into a rage, cursed his Father and siblings and promised him that _she_ would never abandon him by turns.

So he made sure to visit her as often as he could – it wasn’t ideal, and he was gone for weeks and months at times, but well.

The last time he had been here she had been heavy with the child growing inside her, and he’d had fun mocking her for the waddle she’d exchanged for her usual graceful stride. And now this. A living, breathing, _tiny_ human being.

“… He kind of looks like some of the weirder Spawns of Hell I’ve run across, you know?”

 A punch to his shoulder – careful so as not to startle him into dropping her offspring and a silent laugh.

“Shut up, he does _not_. And he’ll grow up to be strong and good, just you wait!”

And he watched the boy grow like the wild flowers all around The Gardens, and he was there for the first steps he took, and it’s possible that he loves the boy more than he loves Chavah herself.

But every time he visited, she seemed to be…less than she was.

_It’s nothing,_ she answers him, or _Oh, it’s just the new child. Kicking me every time I want to sleep. Just tired, see?_

Qayin is running circles around his parents and the new child should be ready to be born soon, when she finally tells him that she can’t stay here. That The Gardens are beautiful, but nothing ever changes, and she’s started to hate the sight of perfect flowers, perfectly tempered lakes and streams and perfectly blue skies. Perfection, everywhere she looks. She is restless and unhappy, and he should’ve seen this coming a long time ago. Chavah had always been curious and free spirited, much like him in that regard.

So he offered to get her the knowledge she’d need to make a change, and she jumped at the opportunity.

They should’ve known it would end in disaster, but no one had ever accused either of them of thinking ahead.

So his Father had gotten angry and blown things out of proportion as always, and the humans had found themselves locked out of The Gardens, facing a strange new world.

Cold nights, nearly hot-as-hell days. Endless deserts, dying crops, fights and heartaches.

Chavah had only grown with each new obstacle, but Adam had been resentful to begin with, and responsibility and struggles didn’t help the matter. When the new child is born, Adam makes sure that he doesn’t spend a lot of time around the Fallen Angel. It stings, but he’s never been overly fond of the man anyway, and it’s enough that he has Chavah and the little Spawn

Chavah gives birth for a third time when her second son is just beginning to walk. It’s a girl this time, and she dies within minutes, and her husband draws a line. He blames Samael and bans him from his home and his wife and children completely. And he obeyed, because he would not walk where he was unwanted. He only has to wait, anyway. She’d come to him sooner or later. She had _promised_ him that she wouldn’d abandon him; promises weren’t meant to be broken.

She called for him in the middle of the night, weeks later. But not to laugh with him, or to tell him her husband had calmed down and he was welcome back. With sad eyes, her face gaunt and drawn, she handed him Qayin – halfway asleep and confused why he was outside while it was dark -  and told him to say his goodbyes. Told him to go and not come back. That she was only human, and she couldn’t cling to a friendship with someone who would never know concerns like hunger or thirst, and that she couldn’t let her child grow up thinking that someone other than his parents would look out for him.

He took a few steps away from her, inhaled the scent of the child and relished the way the boy clung to him, _knowing_ he would be safe, gruesome face or not.

“I’m sorry, Little Spawn.” His voice cracks on the last word, but he chokes back the tears that wanted to escape.

He handed the boy back to his mother and turned around without looking at her again. He hadn’t known that this would be their last meeting until, decades later, one of his brothers deems it fit to tell him she had died and been welcomed back to the Silver City; welcomed back to the one place he would never be allowed to enter.

The words left him cold and empty, and he felt one more part of his heart shrivel and die.

*** 3 ***

It usually takes so long for rumors to make their way to hell that they’re ancient history by the time he hears about them. So it’s really no surprise that he usually doesn’t care all that much about them – or that he _really_ does, the few times they’re still somewhat fresh.

So when he hears whispers about a human Son of God, wandering earth and collecting quite the amount of followers, he naturally investigates.

And finds, to his eternal chagrin, that he likes the man.

Yeshua has a wicked sense of humor and has more friends in the seedier parts of his hometown than in the higher ranks.

He drinks wine like water and Lucifer tells him so (and he’s pretty sure it’s his fault that people turn that around and say me _makes_ wine _out_ of water, later).

They laugh together, and he learns to relax and have fun again. He also finds out that Yeshua is no more his brother than any of the other humans around here. He is, however, a true Miracle. Apparently one of his _actual_ siblings came down on God’s orders, blessed a woman and that was that.

He is _less_ than pleased when he finds out that he is mortal in his friend’s presence – until he realizes that mortality makes it easier to feel pleasure. He takes the occasional stubbed toe, cut finger and sunburn, of all ridiculous things, in stride for that. Besides, it’s a novelty – having to be careful how he moves and acts, and he’s all for new experiences.

It ceases to be fun _or_ interesting when Yeshua is arrested and he decides to get himself into trouble to get locked up with him. They still joke when they’re bloody, black and blue, but it falls flat.

Lucifer knows that there will be no way out for his friend, and he knows that he won’t have much time with him now.

He’s lost track of time at one point, but it doesn’t matter anyway. They’re marched down a dirt road and the way is packed tight with gawking, jeering idiots. He considers throwing caution to the wind; he could drop his glamour, get out his wings and cut a swath through them all, get Yeshua out and to safety.

But he doesn’t know that _Samuel_ is really named something else entirely, that he’s consorting with the enemy, so to speak, and he doesn’t want his friend to see him for the monster he is.

And at least this way, Yeshua will die as he had lived, and people would remember him for the genuinely good man that he is.

They reach Golgotha, and it’s nothing like he ever lived through before. Not even when he’s been thrown from his home had there been this much hate. At least his siblings hadn’t taken pleasure in his pain as some of these people obviously were.

The he’s bound to a cross, and one of the soldiers is nailing him to the wood. He uses the opportunity and makes the man cut open one of the bigger arteries on his arm.

He dies soon after and gets swept back to his kingdom.

At least now he’s learned his lesson.

_Don’t befriend humans. It doesn’t end well for anyone._

*** 4 ***

The next time he’s on earth for longer than a few hours, he likes to think he’s being smart about it.

He has fun, and a lot of it. Adopts a _fuck ‘em and leave ‘em_ mentality, and it suits him just fine. He opens a nightclub and makes sure that people either want him or hate him. It’s a good place to be.

Only then he meets this pretty little thing. She’s nothing special to look at – attractive enough, if a little skinny. But oh, her _voice_. He remembers well the first time he heard someone other than his siblings sing, and she mixes that human quality of _soul_ and _feeling_ with the otherworldly beauty of the Heavenly Choirs into something truly beautiful, and he can’t _not_ like her.

And of course she has to go and get herself killed.

Then me meets Detective Decker and the rest, as they say, is history. _Learned his lesson_. Hah. As _if_.

In hindsight, he’s pretty embarrassed that he had actually managed to forget that Miracles can make him mortal. He’s so hellbent (hah!) into reading something more into it that he never even thinks of that, not until he’s given picture proof.

He hightails it out of LA then, because he very vividly remembers the last time he got tangled up in his Father’s machinations.

He can’t stay away, of course.

She starts to let go of her disappointment, and they work together as they had before, even while they’re careful to stay within the lines of friendship and partnership, nothing more.

They reach the point where he thinks _this is it_. He can come clean and she will be fine with it.

_Famous last words._

*** 5 ***

When he wakes up in the middle of the Mojave, he considers to just stay there, indefinitely. _Devils Playground_ , indeed.

But hee drags himself back to civilization and he tries to ignore the pang of disappointment that the Detective hadn’t even noticed his absence. It hurts, but he’s used to hurt and there’s enough going on to keep him busy.

When he watches Lieutenant Pierce gasp back to life after he stabs him, he shuts his eyes for a moment. _This_ hurts in new, interesting and distinctively unpleasant ways, to remember the boy he had once been.

_My Little Spawn. My Chava’s precious son._

_Marcus. Cain. Qayin._

The man doesn’t remember him, of course. Aside from the fact that it had been quite _literally_ millennia since they’ve seen each other, he had been only a child, not even five years old. And he very much doubts that anyone had told him stories about the Devil making funny faces to make him laugh.

It comes full circle, more or less, when Chloe chooses the other man over him, and he’s told in no uncertain terms that their partnership is done. That she doesn’t trust him enough to work with him anymore.

He knows he should do something about it – Pierce _isn’t_ the boy he once was, there is nothing sweet about him anymore and there’s a glint in his eyes that’s more than just passing acquaintance with insanity. But then, he isn’t quite all there either, not after spending so much time in Hell.

He steps aside and asks Maze to keep an eye on the Detective; it doesn’t really matter that he and his Demon aren’t seeing eye to eye with each other anymore. Maze cares for Chloe, and when Maze decides to protect someone, she does it well.

He isn’t really surprised when he gets a message that Chloe is in trouble, that something is about to happen, and he needs to get his ass in gear.

What _does_ surprise him is the bullet that ends up in his chest, courtesy of one Detective Chloe Jane Decker herself.

He guesses it _had_ been looking bad, him holding her boyfriend pinned to the floor, bloodied knife in his hand and ready to stab down again.

He’s dying – he knows this because it isn’t the first time, and nothing else feels quite like it.

He’s dying, and Chloe is kneeling on the ground over another man, trying to staunch _his_ bleeding, ignoring the Devil entirely.

Lucifer closes his eyes and let’s himself drift away.

He promises himself that something like this won’t happen again, that he’ll stay in Hell and never leave again.

He’s feeling hot and cold at the same time, and he can’t quite move, can’t quite catch his breath, and everything goes first distant, and then dark.

_Back to barracks._

*** 1 ***

He wakes up not to ash and screams, but to sharp, chemical smells and beeping. Nothing hurts, but he’s feeling an all-over uncomfortableness that makes him think it _should_ hurt.

There’s tubes coming out of his arm, and another one runs under his nose. There’s cables running out from under a… _nightgown_?

_Ugh. Hospital. Great._

Then there’s movement to his side, and when he turns his head to look, he thinks he might have died after all.

There’s Chloe, beautiful as always, and for the first time in weeks there’s no anger or disappointment in her eyes when she looks at him.

Instead, her eyes are red-rimmed and watery and there’s tears welling up in them even while he looks on.

But she smiles at him and takes his hand. Kisses his knuckles and tells him to go back to sleep and _it’s alright. I’ll be here when you wake up again. I’m not leaving you alone, I promise._

And he believes her, because she’s Chloe, and he loves her.

He’ll have to ask her what happened to change her mind, and he’ll have to tell her the truth and proof it once and for all. But later.

As he drifts back to sleep, his hand is still firmly clasped in hers, and it’s perfect.

He’s finally where he’s supposed to be.

*** END ***

 

 

 

 

 


	2. In-between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe gets the scare of her life. Pierce is scheming. Lucifer draws the short one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As semi-promised: the part between Lucifer passing out and waking up again in the hospital. And some feels, for good measure.

Maze’s message is impersonal and to the point.

_One of my hell forged knives is missing. Cain and Chloe are on a stake-out, I won’t be back for hours. Go make sure she’s alright._

That’s it. But it’s enough anyway; Maze knows, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he will always come running for those he cares about. So he spreads his wings, using them for the first time since they’ve been forcibly returned to him, and searches. It doesn’t take him long. She’s always on the forefront of his mind nowadays, and it’s surprisingly easy to dip into the bit of Grace he has left. It _wants_ to be used.

He lands just outside some random warehouse, shouts and other sounds of struggle drifting from the building.

He can hear her voice shouting over the other’s _, LAPD, drop your weapons_ , and it’s bringing a smile to his face. Always so forceful, his Detective. But then, he wouldn’t be interested in her if she were anything less than she is.

He enters the building through a side door; creeps through the shadows and remains unseen by any gun-waving idiots. It’s not often he does this anymore – clinging to the _gifts_ of Hell. But in this instance, he’s more concerned for Chloe than his own unwillingness to have anything to do with his own throne.

By the time he reaches the main room he’s knocked out four people, made sure that another two are down for the count and is trying to find out if there’s any more lurking. There aren’t. But only because one can’t count what Pierce is doing as lurking, considering he’s standing right in the middle of the room.

And the man is grinning at him as though Lucifer just delivered the best gift since creating the stars.

Then he takes a knife –Maze’s – out of an inside pocket and plunges it into his own chest.

Lucifer rushed forward on instinct, trying to catch his fall. No matter the millennia that had gone by, his first reaction will always be to protect his Little Spawn.

He’s not fast enough of course. Qayin is flat on his back when he reaches him, teeth smeared red and blood gurgling up his throat – and yet still grinning.

Shaking his head, Lucifer wraps his hand around the knife’s handle and pulls it out. Death would come quicker this way, and he supposes it’s a favor to shorten any suffering. He can tell that Pierce is on his last few breaths, and still he forces words out, stubborn fool that he is.

“Got you…now. Nev..never gonna….have…her back now.”

Coughing. More blood. Confusion on Lucifer’s part.

“Game over.” Then he’s unconscious and Lucifer turns slightly at a sound behind him.

Chloe is there. She has her gun aimed at him. Her eyes… oh, her eyes. He wishes he could unsee the disappointment there, and the heartbreak, but he knows he can’t.

Then those eyes harden, as does her jawline. And only when she corrects her aim and is pulling the trigger does he realize how this must look to her.

He’s kneeling over her dead or unconscious boyfriend, bloody knife still in hand.

He hears the metallic clang as said knife drops to the floor, and for a moment he wonders why he’d let go of it. Then the world tilts to the side and he has trouble breathing and _oh, she’s actually shot me._

He’s lying on his back and he doesn’t like the idea of dying the same way he did once before – shot, lying on his back and bleeding out.

So he makes his limbs move and struggles onto his side. At least he can see what’s happening to the other two people in the room now. In the time it had taken him to get some of his bearings back, she’s ripped open the button-up of the Lieutenant, had taken off her jacket and is now using it to try and keep the blood inside. He knows it’s useless, knows that death is inevitable, but Chloe has always been stubborn.

It’s getting harder to breath and he can hear that he makes whizzing and rattling sounds as he draws breath, even while he sees Qayin’s chest failing to rise. Dead, again. And Chloe keeps on looking at the man, keeps her back turned to Lucifer. Doesn’t care at all about him, not anymore. He welcomes the oblivion when it comes for him. He belongs to the dark anyway.

*** *** ***

Her hands are shaking like crazy, no matter how hard she presses down onto the knife wound. She knows it’s useless by now – Marcus is very much dead. Unseeing eyes, no heartbeat, no breath. She’d try CPR, but there’s more blood outside of his body than inside, most likely. No use getting his heart to beat when there’s barely anything it can work with.

But if she eases up on the pressure, she has to turn around. Turning around means looking at the other body in the room, and she just _can’t_.

It had been hard enough to pull the trigger in the first place. She nearly hadn’t but… but. She’s a _cop_ , and no matter her personal feelings, she can’t allow _anyone_ to commit murder. Even if it’s her partner.

So she kneels over a corpse, and she tries to muster up some sort of heartbreak over it – over him. He’s – _has been_ – her boyfriend, after all. Only she can’t. Her heart hurts, yes. But not over Marcus Pierce. Not much, anyway; not enough for someone she’s supposed to be in love with.

She’s about to ease off on the pressure, admit defeat, call in back-up for their perps. Call in the coroner, too. But there’s a _thump_ under her fingers, and then the corpse opens its eyes and gasps back to life.

She scrambles back and watches as the wound on his chest seals itself shut.

Then there’s screaming and shouting. She distantly realizes that _she’s_ the one screaming, while he jumps up, paces and shouts. She doesn’t know whom at, but she doesn’t care all that much anyway.

Most of his ramblings don’t make much sense to her. Something about… that he … thought he had found a way to make death stick?  But she _does_ understand that this had been a setup. That Lucifer hadn’t been the one to stab Marcus. She understands that she killed her partner because of some scheme, some sort of revenge for backing out of a deal. Then Pierce turns around and kicks at Lucifer. Viciously. The force behind it is enough to make him flop from his side to his back, boneless, like a ragdoll.

Marcus gives her one last, venomous look and rushes out as though there’s hellhounds chasing him.

She sits there, and tries to make sense of things, but her head is spinning, and the only conclusions she draws are straight out of a fantasy novel.

Then there’s a noise, low and barely there, but she grasps at it and uses it to anchor herself to the here and now.

He’s breathing. Weak and wet sounding and so very shallowly, but it’ll do. She ambles over to her discarded, already bloody jacket and goes for a repeat performance – only on the _right_ person, this time.

With her free hand she gets out her phone, calls dispatch. _Man down. I repeat_ , man down _. Need assistance ASAP._

She puts the phone on speaker and rattles down her whereabouts. Mentions the perps, thankfully either unconscious somewhere or smart enough to have taken the chance to make a run for it.

And she prays. Prays for Lucifer to keep on breathing and to forgive her, and for things to make sense again. She also curses at God, because _for fucks sake. He’s your son, right? If there’s people coming back from being dead, then it stands to reason he has been telling the truth all this time. So_ how _could you let this happen? To you own_ child _? Are you fucking_ crazy _?_

By the time backup arrives, his lips had turned blue and there’s barely any breath whistling past his lips anymore, but he isn’t gone either, so she counts it as a win.

She bullies her way into the back of the ambulance, refuses to leave his side.

Tells the people in the hospital that there might still be a threat to his life, that he needs someone with a gun to stand watch and gets to observe them pulling the slug out and stitching him back together from behind glass doors. She wants to throw up and curl into a ball the whole time.

She doesn’t know how much time passes. The surgery took hours, but how many is anyone’s guess. They wheel him into a room in ICU after, and she steps out for a while to talk to a fellow Detective.

She tells a story about one of the perps running off and Marcus dashing after him. About Lucifer having been there with them. She tells the man that she had aimed for one of the fleeing gang members and that Lucifer had come running from somewhere out of her view. Friendly fire. He takes her gun as evidence.

She has no idea if the Detective believes her, but he must have – he pats her on the shoulder, tells her it’s not her fault, and lets her get back to her partner’s side.

Dan had heard about everything, of course. He came by, took in Lucifer’s still form and assures her that he’ll take care of Trixie for a while. That she can stay here and not worry about their daughter.

Linda comes and sits with her for a while, not saying much. She leaves again when Maze very nearly _crashes_ through the door.

The other woman drags a chair to the opposite side of the bed, and they sit there and say nothing, for a while.

Then Chloe starts to tell her what had happened – the truth of it.

Maze listens and then tells her own tale. About following The Devil out of Hell. About parties and a vacation from ruling a kingdom of hate and evil souls. Tells her about the first humans, about two brothers hating each other. That one of them fell at the hand of the other, and the one who remained standing having been denied the same fate.

She’s heard most of that before. Knows the story of Cain and Abel from some research she did on the Devil, back when she’d started to work with Lucifer. And of course she heard the story about Maze following Lucifer through the gates of Hell before – from both of them.

Only now she doesn’t have to think around corners, doesn’t try to see it as a metaphor.

It’s bordering on ridiculous, how much sense everything makes now. It shouldn’t – she should get ready to admit herself to a mental institution. But really, the proof has been piling up like the contraband chocolate cake underneath Trixie’s bed. At this point, there’s no other explanation that _would_ make sense.

Maze doesn’t stay much longer. She makes sure that Chloe is armed, then bends over Lucifer and kisses his forehead. Turns around and glares at her.

“If you tell him I did that, we’re gonna have _words_.”

Then she breezes out, and Chloe is pretty sure that Marcus – _Cain_ – is going to regret this day _very_ much. As she looks at the Devil, pale with dark circles under his eyes, hooked up to machines and a ventilator breathing for him… well, she finds she really doesn’t care.

She puts the loaner-gun within easy reach, takes Lucifer’s hand, and settles in to wait.

*** *** ***

It’s been nearly a week, and he still hasn’t woken up. Lieutenant Marcus Pierce is officially missing, and if the feral grin on Maze’s face had been anything to go by, he’d _stay_ missing.

She sighs and tries to find a more comfortable position. Fails. She’s been sitting flat on her behind for six days, and she needs to move. The few walks down to the cafeteria and pacing in this room don’t really count. But she won’t leave him. She _can’t_. He had closed his eyes to her fussing over someone else, and he won’t wake up to her not being here, fussing over _him_ instead.

At least he is breathing on his own again. At least his heart is still beating.

*** *** ***

He wakes up two days later, groggy and uncoordinated from his long sleep and the drugs. Her eyes tear up instantly, but there’s also a smile on her face.

She can see that he’s struggling to say something, but she intervenes. Takes his hand in hers and kisses his knuckles, because it’s what she wants to do, and he looks as though he needs the reassurance.

“Well, finally. Took you long enough.”

There’s more confusion settling in his eyes, and she realizes that he might be awake, but not really all the way coherent yet.

“I know you’re probably confused. Go ahead, get some more sleep – you need it. I’ll be here when you wake up again. I’m not leaving you alone, I promise.”

He blinks at her, his eyes already falling shut again – trusting her, after everything.

They’re going to have to talk about a lot of things. They will need to re-define their partnership, but she doesn’t doubt it’s going to be good, now that they’re on the same page.

She rests her head on the bed near his hip and falls asleep with his hand still clasped in hers.

They’re going to be just fine.

*** END***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo. I hope you're satisfied with what we missed in the first chapter. Angst and Feels, some whump. All in a day's work.  
> Let me know what you think?

**Author's Note:**

> Right. I know this is kinda open, and there was a big jump from Chloe shooting him to sitting at his bedside. But this is really mostly from his POV, and he was very obviously NOT awake for what happened in between.  
> I might write a short sequel with the missing scene, but no promises!  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the way I messed with Biblical stories. I know I had fun!  
> See you around!


End file.
